


Beloved

by queenhomeslice



Series: Rhapsody [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Boys Kissing, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Confessions, Emotional Sex, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pinned against wall, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Promptis - Freeform, Public Display of Affection, Underage Kissing, dildos (mentioned), internet porn (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: “Why me?”How can he possibly ask that?_________Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.





	1. Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash

They’re playing video games at Noct’s apartment, and Prompto is kicking Noctis’ ass in the cutesy character racing game because he somehow keeps getting power-ups and throwing bananas in the middle of the racetrack. The characters are in space and the road is multicolored and Noctis keeps throwing his character—which looks like a sentient mushroom—off the side of the unguarded road because he just  _keeps_ looking at Prompto out of the side of his peripheral vision.  

Prompto’s got his school blazer off, crumpled in the floor in a way that would make Ignis violently ill. His tie is loosened around his neck, top three buttons of his crisp white shirt undone, showing off teasing collarbones and pale, freckled skin. Noctis wonders how far down the freckles go. His shoes have long been gone, mismatched socks showing shamelessly in the dim light of the television and the lamp. His sleeves are rolled up, haphazardly pushed around his elbows, showing off smooth, toned forearms.  

Noctis forgets he’s staring until Prompto laughs loudly and says, “Dude, you’ve died like, eight times!” 

But, oh, Noctis has died more than eight times. He feels like he’s been dying every day since Prompto wedged his way into the prince’s life like he’d always belonged there. Noctis turns back to the TV, and Prompto’s big dinosaur-like character is jumping up and down with a gold, leaf–circled _1_ next to him, Noct’s character clapping in second place in the lower corner. He’s player one, so he’s controlling whether to continue to change maps or characters, but Noctis makes no move to click on another race option.  

Prompto turns to face him and grins. “Best five out of seven?” 

Noctis looks away from the television and stares into Prompto’s bright blue eyes, his freckled cheeks that are flushed with the adrenaline of concentrated hand-eye coordination, blond hair falling smoothly over his forehead; Noct cannot help but shoot another glance at the skin beneath Prompto’s slightly open shirt.  

“Dude,” says Prompto, quizzically. “Eos to Noct, you in there buddy? Need a break from all the ass-kicking?” 

“I want to kiss you,” Noctis says quietly, before he’s even realized he’s voiced the thought out loud.  

“Wha... _what_?” cries Prompto. “I, uh, um...ha, heh heh, funny...funny joke, pal, you’re...you’re hilarious...!” Prompto nervously chuckles but doesn’t move.  

“I’m not,” says Noctis, mouth dry. “Not joking, Prom.” 

“Buh-but, but, but...I’m...you’re...you’re  _you_...” And doesn’t Prompto know, know that Noctis is  _Noctis,_ and he is himself; and he feels like a gremlin from the sewers, and even though he’s best friends with the crown prince of Lucis, he’s only that because some Tenebraen princess wrote him a letter when he was a child after he saved her dog. If it weren’t for Noctis, Prompto would have no one in the world—he has parents, but only barely, and he knows he’s not their biological son, anyway. What does Noctis want with a trash bag like him? “Y’know,” continues Prompto, “I mean...why do you want to...uh, um...” 

“Prompto,” Noctis says, tongue heavy and heart dying of want. “I...please?” Noctis can’t voice why he wants to kiss Prompto, he just  _does_ —wants to drink in his warm light and his blue eyes and his freckles and he  _wants_ — 

And as if Prompto could ever refuse him. Where Noctis goes, Prompto follows, unless he’s explicitly ordered to stay away, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if that ever happened. If Noctis ever told him to jump, Prompto would ask when, where, how high, how many times to jump, should he wear a special outfit while jumping, and he’d say, thank you for letting me jump in your presence, Noct. And Prompto is so overwhelmed that the prince thinks of him like  _that_ that he begins to cry, right there on the couch, and suddenly Noctis has his hands on his cheeks, and his princely hands are getting stained with common tears, and it’s all just  _so_ — 

“Prompto,” Noctis says again softly. “Can...can I?” 

And Prompto lets out a heaving sob and he nods, he can’t even open his eyes because it’s all so much, too much, his heart is slamming against his rib cage; and any minute, he thinks, Ignis and Gladio are going to come in and yank him away from Noctis and throw him out on his ass and bar him from any further contact, but to  _kiss_ _Noctis_ will have been worth it, and if they kiss and Prompto gets hit by a train on the way home then he’ll have had a good life.  

Noctis doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s only seen kissing in movies, and Prompto is right in front of him, eyes squeezed shut and tears illuminating his freckles in the blue-tinted light of the video game; red lips slightly parted, as if he’s waiting with baited breath, as if this is a dream he’s expecting to wake up from, and Noctis can see that Prompto is shaking, and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad; but he leans in, his own lips apart, and presses his mouth to Prompto.  

The sound that Prompto makes is utterly sinful, somewhere between a moan and a cry, and Noctis tilts his head to get their noses out of the way, and kisses him again, pushing harder against him, and he can’t help it—he slips one hand inside Prompto’s open shirt, fingers splayed out against his lean chest, and Noctis ever-so-slightly curls a finger and runs the edge of his short nail across Prompto’s collarbone.  

Prompto whimpers loudly and says his name three, four times in rapid succession, expletives thrown in for good measure, and Noctis grins and tries something—sticks out his tongue into his best friend’s mouth and swipes it around, curling it around Prompto’s tongue, and Prompto is suddenly gripping the back of Noct’s head, pale fingers intertwined into soft raven hair, and Prompto boldly pushes Noctis on his back on the couch and he’s on top of him, and— 

“Goddamn, Prompto,” Noctis says as he finally pulls away, because now he’s noticed that Prompto has buried his face into Noctis’ still-clothed shoulder—he's never hated his school uniform until right now, he wants it  _off_ —and that the blond is grinding his groin against Noct’s own stirring manhood, and  _Astrals_ , Noctis never wants to leave this moment, he doesn’t want to be the Chosen, or whatever; he’d give up his title if it meant that Prompto could be on him, like this, every day; he wants his best friend flush against him, feeling his warmth and his goodness and his need, always.  

“How do you,” Noctis starts, but the blond cuts him off.  

“I don’t know,” Prompto whispers, “I’m a virgin.” 

“Well,” goes Noctis, “I am too, we don’t have to, it’s okay, I just want...” 

And wordlessly, Prompto lifts his hips a little and fiddles with his belt and buttons and zipper until he’s open, and he wiggles his pants and boxers down mid-thigh, and Noctis watches with lust as Prompto does the same to his trousers, and suddenly he’s free, and Prompto shifts to be more in the center, holding himself up on shaky arms, blond hair hanging in his face, eyes blown out with desire as their bare cocks touch and Prompto begins to  _move_.  

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Prom,” Noctis praises breathlessly as Prompto cants his hips against the prince, their cocks red and hard and slicked with precum, and then Prompto’s crying again, and moaning: and Noctis wants to record that sound and he relishes the fact that no one else has probably heard it except for him, and he doesn’t know how to act. He grabs Prompto’s slender hips, callused sword-worn fingers digging in around pale silvered stretch marks and he holds Prompto close as his rhythm starts to falter—Noctis is amazed that he himself has even made it this far.  

“Nah...Noctis,” Prompto hisses. “Can’t...I’m gonna...” 

“Fuck,” is all Noctis can say as one hand drops from sharp hipbones to wrap around both of their cocks as much as he’s able, and he starts to jerk.  

“Noctis!” Prompto cries long and loud and drops one arm so he’s leaning shoulder to shoulder with Noct on one side, and he’s sobbing into Noct’s clean white shirt as he’s spilling up onto it, and then Noctis is bucking his hips and groaning low as his orgasm hits seconds later, and Noctis doesn’t stop touching him until Prompto whines and shakes away.  

Noctis lets his hand fall slack and Prompto collapses on top of him, shaking, still crying from the over-stimulation. 

Noctis doesn’t move or say anything for a long while, bringing the hand that’s not stained with sticky white up to Prompto’s hair and curling his fingers into it, scratching his scalp and brushing and petting and Prompto leans into his touch, like a cat, and lets out breathy exhales; and Noctis closes his eyes and thanks the gods for the gift on top of him.  

 

After a time—they've dozed off, Noctis doesn’t know how long—he feels Prompto shift, immediately missing the weight, like an anxiety-soothing blanket, and the blond is up on his forearms, face impossibly close, blushing deep and sheepishly staring with those baby blues.  

“Noct,” he says, wrecked. “I...I...” 

“Hey,” says Noctis, smiling sleepily. “You don’t have to say anything.” 

“Why me?” 

How can he possibly ask that? How can Prompto be oblivious to the effect that he has on Noctis? How can Noctis  _not_ want him like this, in his bed—metaphorically, of course, because they never left the couch—in as many positions as humanly possible? How can Noctis  _not_ look at him like he’s the physical embodiment of the sun? The prince just stares, and he doesn’t know what to say. “You’re beautiful,” he begins, and that’s a start, maybe—an understatement, but it’s something. “You’re selfless, and warm, giving, and kind, you don’t have any expectations of me, you’re fun, and I...I...” Noctis bites his lip and looks away.  

Prompto is staring at the prince—the  _prince_ —and his brain has long stopped working and all Prompto can do is laugh nervously and hang his head.  

Noctis looks back and brings his not-sticky hand to Prompto’s chest again and caresses the bare skin there—he brings the green tie up and over his head and throws it to the floor and scoots his hand down, cupping Prompto’s pec and feeling his hard nipple in the middle of his palm, and Noctis instinctively thumbs over it, tweaks it, and Prompto’s moaning, breathless syllables of his name, and Noctis feels ready to go all over again, and he feels ridiculous. It’s so stupid how attractive Prompto is and it pains him that his friend has no confidence, can’t see himself how Noctis sees him. How did he miss the way Noctis sized him up like a whole meal when he finally worked up the nerve to befriend him all those months ago?  

“Noct,” Prompto whines again. “You’re so...” 

“What, Prom?” Noctis asks.  

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Prompto mutters.  

“Then don’t wake up.”  

“Nah,” and there’s the regular Prompto, the one flashing a cheeky grin even though he’s all blissed out. “I can’t be like you. One of us has to actually stay awake to, y’know. Experience life.” 

“I’m experiencing life just fine right now,” Noctis shoots back with a smirk, and Prompto blushes deeply again.  

“I just...I can’t believe you want me... _me._ ” 

“I do,” says Noctis simply. “I mean, if you want this too...don’t feel like...like you have to...if you don’t really want it...” He’s suddenly afraid. If Prompto rejects him now he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it. Not after he’s felt him, groin to groin, making noises that would put angelic singing to shame.  

“Are you kidding,” Prompto laughs, shaking his head. “This is like...the culmination of...of every fantasy I’ve ever had since puberty slapped me in the face.” 

Oh, that’s new. “Is that why you’ve been crying through this whole ordeal?” 

“Buddy,” says Prompto. “I’m crying because you’re...this...is more than I deserve. More than I’m worthy of.” 

“It’s not, though,” says Noctis, hurt again. “You’re so special...” 

“Are you just saying that because our pants are still down?” And they are, they never buttoned back up, they’re still skin to skin, boxers and pants pulled to the middle of their thighs. Prompto laughs.  

Noctis pouts. “I’m serious dude. Can you just like. Do me a favor and accept this?” 

“Dude, I...there is no universe where I wouldn’t accept this.” To make his point, Prompto kind of rolls his hips and Noctis feels that spark again, lets out a soft “Ah, Prompto,” and shifts his hips for friction.  

“Hey, let’s,” Prompto continues. “Let’s shower?” 

“Okay,” says Noctis, and Prompto is off of him, shedding the rest of his school uniform since it was all halfway off anyway, and he’s sauntering naked to the bathroom, and Noctis can’t get his clothes off fast enough, grinning like an idiot as he stumbles sleepily behind his best friend.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game is Mario Kart, obviously! Noctis plays Toad and Prompto plays Bowser, don't @ me
> 
> _____
> 
> Comments more than appreciated, I thrive on validation. Feed me.


	2. Euphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis looks up at him and Prompto can only stare with baited breath, and if this sight isn’t masturbation fodder for the rest of his life, he’ll eat his shoe.

Noctis catches Prompto outside of the school a week later after their...whatever it was, Noctis hates labels, he has enough of them to last him his whole life, and they will—he catches Prompto by his thin wrist, fingers wrapped around the worn green-and-white wristband, and not-to-gently pushes him into the brick wall just around the corner from the school’s front door.  

They haven’t done anything since the night Noctis kissed him and jerked them off, together—not that Prompto’s been avoiding him, no, never that; but he’s so damn nervous, so riddled with anxiety over Noct’s new attentions that his brain is in overload and he’s done little more than his usual arm around the shoulder or high five. They’ve kissed a couple of more times, in the private moments in Noct’s apartment, before or after Ignis is there, but nothing so heated as the first time. Noctis always comes multiple times and harder than he’s ever had before when Prompto’s left him for the night and he’s left with a burning on his lips.   

Noctis pins Prompto’s wrists to the wall and Prompto feels  _trapped_ , like a mouse with its tail between a cat’s claws, and he’s already breathing heavy, feels himself getting hot, knows his eyes are probably dilated all to shit with the way Noctis is staring at him from under those impossibly long eyelashes, jaw clenched with resolve and nostrils flared, blue eyes piercing and wild.  

Prompto feels like he’s about to be eaten alive, but this is one attack he’d never shy away from. The risk of being  _caught_ or  _seen_ only adds to the thrill that’s running from Prompto’s toes to Prompto’s groin.  

“Noct,” he breathes. “Someone could...” 

“Someone could what, see us? Then let them watch.” Noctis stares at Prompto, lip slightly curled up on one side.  

Just like Noctis to want everything, immediately. “Fuck,” Prompto whines, and he knows he’s already getting a very inconvenient boner, knows that Ignis will be pulling up any second to collect the prince, knows that— 

Noctis surges forward and slots their bodies together like puzzle pieces, drops one hand from the wristband and grabs Prompto’s jaw, forcing his mouth open so he can tilt his head and slide his tongue inside of his best friend’s mouth.  

Prompto’s never been so ready for anything in his life. He whines quietly as Noctis takes him against the side of the school, and he vaguely registers a few scandalized gasps from somewhere in the distance, possibly the sound of a girl crying, he’s not sure—how can he focus with the prince of Lucis kissing him like he needs it to survive? And of course Prompto’s kissing back hard, losing himself in Noctis, in his scent and his taste, weaving his one free hand into heart-meltingly soft black hair and gripping, because Prompto’s always telling himself this is a dream and he holds onto Noctis for dear life. He’s shaking and out of breath and they’ve only been kissing for maybe a minute, but he could kiss Noctis all day, every day, for the rest of his life—well, with maybe breaks for video games and pizza, but that’s an afterthought—and when Noctis shifts to push his knee up between Prompto’s legs the blond lets out a sound he didn’t know he could make.  

Noctis started this little romp to take the edge off—he's been so pent up, he wants  _more_ of Prompto, even though he knows that being in the presence of the sun for too long is dangerous—but somehow it’s quickly going south with the debauched noises that his pretty friend is making underneath him, and Noct realizes that maybe he’s in over his head. He hears a familiar honk and reluctantly pulls away, turns his head to the side, and sees the car. Only, it’s not Ignis who’s standing at the door, it’s some other driver, and Noctis cocks his head and leaves Prompto to come back down to the world and collect himself.  

“Hey, uh. Where’s Ignis?” 

“Apologies, your Highness. Mr. Scientia was a little overly-occupied at the Citadel today and sends his regrets,” the driver says with a polite bow. “He is planning to be at your residence at seven for dinner, if it pleases your Highness.”  

Noctis rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sounds good. Just take me home then.” He turns to Prompto, who’s peeled himself from the wall, still red-faced, trying to hold his school bag over the front of his pants. He smiles at Prompto and motions him over.  

Prompto nearly trips over himself trying to run to the street corner to Noctis and the car, and as the driver sit back in behind the wheel, Noctis pulls Prompto into the back seat.  

The blond has landed on top of him, and Noctis reaches for the switch that puts the thick barrier up between sections of the car, and once it’s rolled up and he feels the car pull away from the curb he knows he’s got less than thirty minutes to get Prompto where he wants him. It’s perhaps the only thing he’s done in his short life with vigor, except for maybe fishing. 

Prompto scoots to let Noctis have more space on the seat, but Noctis is fumbling with his belt buckle and pants, and then the prince is on his knees on the car floorboards while Prompto’s sitting there helplessly. Noctis looks up at him and Prompto can only stare with baited breath, and if this sight isn’t masturbation fodder for the rest of his life, he’ll eat his shoe. Noctis shoots him a shit-eating grin and puts a finger to his lips and Prompto nods wordlessly and is already biting his knuckles as Noctis pulls his erection from the confines of his boxer-briefs and presses those perfect pink lips to the swollen, leaking head.  

The prince doesn’t know what he’s doing but he’ll give it his best shot, thinking if push comes to shove, he can always use his hands. Now that he knows Prompto’s kind of been into him forever, he figures anything he does will get his friend to the breaking point. Noctis mimics what he’s seen in porn and read about in erotica—there’s King’s Knight fanfiction, believe it or not—and tries to cover his teeth with his lips as he slides his mouth over the first several inches of Prompto’s length.  

 _Fuck_. Of course  he’d gotten a good look last time, on the couch, in the shower; but it still blows his mind just how much heat Prompto is really packing. He’s not absurdly long, but he’s a little over average, if the other guys’ dicks in the locker room are anything to judge by; and damn, is Prompto _thick._ Noctis stupidly thanks the Astrals for Prompto’s genetics with the few coherent thoughts he has left. If he weren’t so shy and insecure, Noctis thinks Prom could fuck his way around half the school—any gender—if he wanted to and be a goddamned legend, but for once he’s grateful for the anxiety because it means that Prompto is only  _his_ ; that Prompto comes apart for  _him_ and  _only_ him, that he himself is the penultimate object of Prompto’s desires. His cock swells at the thought of Prompto last year, or the year before, when the hormones started raging and you wake with wet sheets whether you wanted to or not; swells at the thought of Prompto grinding his hips against a pillow or a mattress and moaning  _Noctis_ into the emptiness of the night.  

None of it matters now, though, what Prompto did at fourteen in his spare time; it matters that Noctis is finding a rhythm and learning on the fly how not to gag around Prompto’s length as he steels himself to go to the base, nose touching tufts of bristly blond hair, inhaling Prompto’s sweat and musk and his pine-scented bodywash. Noctis puts two hands on trembling pale thighs to support himself and give leverage for what he’s about to do—he's not sure exactly but he thinks maybe they’re less than fifteen minutes from his apartment and he needs to do this quickly.  

Prompto is writhing underneath him, sniffling and crying and biting his hand until it’s raw and bloody, body stiff with the anticipation and the vulgarity of it all. Noctis brings his head back up, mouth completely off Prompto’s cock so he can breath, but then his tongue is quickly back at it again, mouth delving down almost to the base, and he brings one hand to wrap around the shaft where his lips aren’t touching.  

Several more minutes of Noctis working his mouth and tongue, Prompto whines long and loud, muffled under bitten knuckles and lips, but the shape of Noctis’ name is unmistakable as it spills out of Prompto, and Noctis catches his weirdly bitter spend in his mouth, swallowing quickly—a foreign taste, but not necessarily  _bad_. He doesn’t think there could be anything  _bad_ about Prompto, not with the way his freckles are so dark against the pink of his cheeks, or the way that his one free hand has come to grip Noct’s hair for the second time that day.  

He gazes back up at his friend; the blond‘s body has gone slack, head thrown back on the sleek leather headrest, chest heaving, drool at the corners of his mouth and on his chin and below. Noctis licks his lips and moves to tuck Prompto back in, fastening his pants and buckling his belt. He sidles up next to Prompto on the seat and grabs his hand.  

Prompto collapses into Noctis and the prince laughs, patting his shoulder fondly. “You okay, buddy?” 

“How can you possibly ask that,” Prompto mumbles. “I think you sucked my soul outta my dick.” 

Noctis giggles— _gods,_ Prompto’s got him  _giggling_ now—as he feels the car slow and roll to a stop. He leans forward to push a button and the partition rolls back down.  

“Here you are, Highness,” says the driver. “Remember, expect Mr. Scientia at seven o’clock.” 

“Right,” Noctis responds with his usual nonchalance. He shakes Prompto and the blond lethargically crawls out of the back seat, schoolbag in hand, followed by Noctis. He goes up to the prince’s apartment and waits until Noctis unlocks it, and he doesn’t miss the bulge in his friend’s uniform.  

As Noctis is opening the door, Prompto stutters, “Uh, should I...uh...return the favor, Noct?”  

It’s so cute the way he’s so bashful even after he’s just gotten a royal blowjob. Noctis turns as Prompto steps inside and closes the door. “I think that’s only fair.” 

Prompto blushes even more than he has been and unconsciously licks his lips as Noctis walks to his bedroom. Stumbling over himself as usual, Prompto follows.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry Promptis from my cold, dead hands, I guess. 
> 
> Can't stop, won't stop


	3. Aphrodisiac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto grins at Noctis, because how can the prince know about his collection of dildos and the way that Prompto pushes them inside himself almost every night, pretending that they’re Noct’s dick inside of him; the way that Prompto has been practicing deep-throating silicone penises for years in shameless self-indulgent fantasies about himself and the other boy on the bed?

Prompto has a very specific search history on the internet’s more R-rated websites, stuff like  _blond_ _twink_ _, skinny black-haired_ _twink_ _, edging, shower sex, light BDSM,_ and etc. Obviously, when he searches for gay porn on the internet and finds images or videos of two guys with similar builds to him and Noctis, one with fair features and one with dark features, the one with black hair almost always having his way with the fair-haired man—obviously he’s imagined himself and Noctis. Obviously. It just never occurred to Prompto that it could actually  _happen_ , that Noctis could  _actually_ like him back as anything more than a friend.  

This whole week, Prompto’s been masturbating hard and fast to the memory of their first kiss-turned-frottage session; and he’s grateful that Noct has sensed his hesitation and hasn’t pushed him further; after all, Prompto did kind of take the initiative on the dick-to-dick action, acting on instinct when words failed him; and he’s embarrassed that he crossed some kind of line. They’ve kissed a little more, and Prompto thinks he could make out with Noctis forever, but he wants to experience  _everything_ Noctis has to give him...but some part of his brain is telling him to wait and take it slow. That’s probably the anxiety and the inexperience talking. Prompto’s a follower, not a leader, and if Noctis wants to have his way with him, Prompto’s not going to argue much. He hasn’t stopped touching Noctis, still is very generous with fist bumps and high fives and hugs and putting his arm around Noct’s shoulder; but Noctis has apparently had it worse than him, because the way that the prince nearly broke him outside of the fucking  _school_ had sent shockwaves to his core.  

Prompto’s on his knees, now, though; he and Noct are  _naked_ in the prince’s bed and Prompto’s about to return the favor of putting his mouth on Noct’s dick and Prompto almost doesn’t want to start—wants to savor this moment. He’s still terribly insecure, because he doesn’t know if Noct remembers him from elementary school or not, but even after losing weight and learning how to balance his diet better and gaining the lean, muscled body of a runner, Prompto has faint stretch marks around his hips and no one’s seen him naked since he was a child (he’s good at hiding in bathroom stalls to change before and after PE class). However, Noctis is looking at him like he’s a mouse in a trap again, and suddenly Prompto can’t think straight. He guesses that Noctis likes how he looks—he likes him enough to kiss him and suck him off, he vaguely remembers; so he swallows his self-deprecation down and moves lower to put his mouth near Noct’s erection.  

“Don’t get all nervous now,” Noctis laughs. “We literally showered together last week.” 

“I know,” Prompto breathes, nose and lips nuzzling soft black pubic hair and pale inner thighs. “I...I just...it’s a thing, okay.” 

Noctis hums. “Do you think you’re ugly?” 

Prompto laughs as he licks a stripe up the underside of Noct’s dick and the prince groans. “Not...not  _ugly_. Just...plain? Nothing special, I guess.” 

“Said it before. You’re special to me.” 

Prompto flicks his tongue around the velvety head, pushes his lips to the slit to gather a bead of pre-cum, smiles at the way Noctis throbs in his hand. He doesn’t reply.  

“However, if you don’t actually start doing something, I’m going to...” 

Prompto grins at Noctis, because how can the prince know about his collection of dildos and the way that Prompto pushes them inside himself almost every night, pretending that they’re Noct’s dick inside of him; the way that Prompto has been practicing deep-throating silicone penises for  _years_ in shameless self-indulgent fantasies about himself and the other boy on the bed? “Right,” says Prompto, and, relaxing his throat, takes Noctis down to the hilt all in one go, grabbing the prince’s pale hips with his hands and squeezing tight.  

“Fucking  _Six,_ _Prompto!_ _”_ Noctis screams. The prince’s mind shoots into space and he doesn’t think he’s ever been  _this_ turned on in his life. Prompto has almost no gag reflex, he registers with his one brain cell that’s left, because his friend is bobbing up and down on his cock, all wet and warm and tight, and Noctis feels the tip of his dick hitting the back of Prompto’s throat, feels Prompto’s tongue working the shaft, hears the lewd slurping noises; and if Prompto’s a virgin, then Noctis wonders what kind of toys his friend has at home—because Noctis relied mostly on Prompto coming at the sheer thought of the prince touching him so intimately, but  _Prompto_ is working Noctis to quick orgasm like he’s an adult film star, sending him closer and closer to the edge on pure technique alone.  

Prompto’s brain has gone blank and all he knows is  _Noctis;_  the taste, smell, and feel of his prince writhing in pleasure underneath him. He thanks whichever god is listening that Noctis has returned his affections, thankful that he’s able to put the lessons from the internet to good use. The prince’s pants and moans and choked-out bastardizations of  _his_ name are being burned into Prompto’s permanent spank bank— _he_ is making the prince feel like this.  _He_ is taking Noctis apart. Prompto’s hard again, cock bobbing against the sheets, drops of precum on the head. He releases one of Noct’s hips, and without slowing his rhythm, grabs a hold of himself and moans around the prince’s cock, and starts to pump himself to completion.  

Noctis never realized how  _good_ this could feel; and the fact that it’s  _Prompto_ , who was apparently created specifically to give him a blowjob, is huge fucking bonus. It’s only been a few minutes, and while Noct usually prides himself on stamina, there’s no way he’s going to last with the way Prompto is swallowing his manhood into oblivion. He feels the vibrations of Prompto’s throat around his cock, then hears the humming, has registered the loss of a hand on his right hipbone.  _He’s hard again, he’s touching himself while doing this to me_ , and Noctis is gone. He screams Prompto’s name and grabs a fistful of blond hair and haphazardly thrusts his hips hard into his best friend’s mouth, painting Prompto’s throat white. 

Prompto moans in satisfaction as Noctis shoots hot and thick down his throat, and Prompto swallows it all, grateful for it. He leaves his mouth around Noctis until he feels his friend start to go soft, and then he releases the prince, licking him a little more and fondling his balls until Noct wiggles, pulling away from overstimulation. 

Prompto’s still hard but he leaves his erection be for now as he sits back up on his haunches, looking at the boneless vision of lean muscle and black hair and perfect facial features. 

Noctis comes back down to Eos a minute later, cracks an eye to see Prompto sitting up between his legs, lazily stroking himself, satisfied smile on his face, eyes full of admiration and love.  

“Hey buddy,” says Prompto.  

“Fuck,” replies Noctis. “Where in the...how in the hell are you so  _good_ at that?” 

“I aim to please, Highness,” Prompto teases. 

And fuck,  _fuck;_  Noctis usually hates his title, hates invoking it or lording it over people, but in this context...in the  _bed_ , with  _Prompto_ saying it like Noctis  _owns_  him...that’s a kink Noctis didn’t know he had. His dick twitches in spite of himself and he blushes, despite the fact that he’s already been blushing since Prompto swallowed him whole.  

Oh, and Prompto notices the southern movement, arches an eyebrow. “Like the power dynamic, bro? We can, uh...totally do that next time.” He gives Noctis a goofy wink. “I can call you Prince Noctis and you can... _command_ me, to uh, do stuff?” And Prompto blushes as he says it, but he figures if they’ve gotten this far, they might as well start putting things out in the open. “Y’know, if...if you want.” 

And oh, that’s the problem—Noctis very much  _wants_ , he wants  _Prompto_ , he wants where all of this is going, he wants Prompto’s affections and secrets and whispered confessions, wants to soothe his anxiety and tell him he’s good enough—and Noctis notices that as Prompto’s talked about being subservient, he’s increased the speed of his hand on his cock, and fuck, Noctis  _wants_ again, wants to be more up close and personal, wants to invade Prompto’s space and make a home there and never leave.  

“I want,” Noctis croaks. “I do want that. Why wait. We can start now. Come closer to your prince, Prompto.” 

And Prompto  _whimpers_ , and Noctis feels his dick twitch. Prompto puts his legs on either side of Noct and scoots up until his calves are by Noct’s ribs and his balls are resting just below the prince’s pectorals. Prompto hasn’t stopped touching himself. He’s shuddering, feels tears forming in the corners of his eyes—he's so easy to cry, he hates it, but he can’t help it—can barely look at the prince under him through half-closed eyelids.  

“Good boy,” whispers Noctis as he brings one hand to settle on a pale freckled hip. “You’re so good for me, Prom.” 

“Fuck, Noct,” Prompto breathes, squeezes his eyes and alters the rhythm of his wrist, starts to rock his hips and thrust into his hand with purpose.  

“Mmmmm,” says Noctis as he grins. “It’s better if you call me by my proper name, Prompto. You gonna come for me? Say my name while you come.” 

“Prince...Prince Noctis!” Prompto screams, followed by a deep guttural groan as he comes all over the prince’s chest and throat, a few thin ropes of white even making it to Noct’s chin and lips. He’s full on crying again, bucking into his hand like a madman, riding his high and milking himself all over his lover. 

Noctis darts his tongue out to taste his best friend for the second time that day, then brings his free hand to scoop up what’s been spilled below his face, gathers it, and puts it in his mouth, but doesn’t swallow. He pats Prompto on the thigh and points to his mouth and the blond dives down into the filthy kiss, taking his own spend from Noct’s mouth and into his own and gulping it down. He kisses Noctis deeply for several more minutes before he scoots down and lays at Noct’s side, bringing one arm underneath the prince and gathering Noctis to himself.  

Noctis sighs into the embrace and wraps himself around Prompto like the tired, sticky hot mess that he is, that he feels like. Prompto strokes into his hair, scratches his scalp—mimicking the way Noctis comforted him in their first little romp. He doesn’t shy away when Prompto begins to draw light, loving circles on his back, on and around the scar. In the shower, Prompto had called the scar beautiful, regal, even; and Noctis thinks it’s silly but it’s a nice sentiment and he knows Prompto means it, so he doesn’t fight it. Prompto repeats the phrase as his slender fingers graze over the rippled flesh.  

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Noctis,” the blond sighs—and there’s that hint of hesitation, like Noctis is somehow soiling himself, defiling himself, by having anything to do with Prompto.  

“Mmmmmmm, ditto,” says Noctis sleepily. He can already feel the lethargy setting in. 

Prompto snorts in protest but doesn’t say anything, continues to pet his best friend. If Noctis were a cat he’d be purring, he’s sure; but soon, something else invades the quiet aftermath.  

“Time is it,” Noctis asks. “Gotta...gotta clean up for Iggy.” 

“Oh shit you’re right,” says Prompto. He glances at the wall—it's an Assassin’s Creed clock, and Prompto giggles. “Uh. It’s almost five, dude.” 

Noctis hums. “Shower, then uh. Help me tidy up? And homework.” For once he feels motivated to be responsible. He knows Ignis will probably be mad that Prompto’s over right after school anyway—the only way he’d gotten away with this stunt today is having Ignis “overly-occupied” at the Citadel with a few minor disasters he’d secretly orchestrated himself. If he wants to placate his chamberlain, he’s going to need to haul ass and do things right. He begrudgingly moves away from his current source of heat and joy.  

“Sure buddy,” says Prompto breathlessly. “Shower, chores, homework.” He presses a kiss to Noct’s hair before the prince can fully leave the bed.  

Noctis sits up and stretches, then pads to the bathroom. He turns back to the fair freckled vision still reclined on the bed, like a Renaissance painting.  

“Be a good boy and come on, Prompto.” Noctis smirks.  

Prompto’s cheeks flush and he scrambles off the mattress. “Do  _not_ start making me get random boners by using that tone!” Prompto whines as he scoots past him.  

Noctis cackles, swats him on the ass, and follows Prompto into the shower stall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am forever of the belief that Prompto has a praise kink, don't @ me.
> 
> Also, it's fun to see neither one come out on top--they both undo each other, and it's just fun to write that, y'know?


End file.
